


12 Days of a Rickyl Christmas

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Kiss, Explicit Language, First Kiss, M/M, Prison, farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve small fluff pieces involving Daryl/Rick around Christmas (some no apocalypse AUs, some in show settings).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Kiss at an Office Party

**Author's Note:**

> There will be twelve chapters, each a small Christmas fluff piece meant to stand alone. I will post one a day from the 14th through the 25th. I have structured them so that the odd numbered chapters are no apocalypse AUs and the even chapters are show settings.

_On the 1st Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Kiss at an Office Party_

Rick and Shane pulled up to the darkened building that was blaring “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” and Rick raised his eyebrows and gave Shane a sour expression.

“This does not look like an office party, Shane.”

Shane shrugged and grinned. “It’s an office of a sort. It’s a work place.”

“It’s a bar,” Rick said and gestured toward the building as if Shane hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah. And bartenders need Christmas parties, too.” Shane climbed out of the car and Rick yelled after him.

“It’s a _biker_ bar, Shane!” He got out and jogged to keep up with his friend, who was walking toward the building at a rapid pace.

“Loosen up, man,” Shane said. “You need to get out. You’ve been a total sadsack ever since Lori left you and you need to have some fun, baby. Move around a little. And you never know. You might meet someone.”

“At a _biker bar_?”

Shane turned around and kept walking backwards. “Yeah, man. I did.”

Rick rolled his eyes at the mention of Merle, the badass redneck that Shane had been hanging out with lately. He’d only met the guy twice and he already knew that anyone sane should stay far away. But then again, Shane wasn’t very well known for being reasonable.

They walked in the door right as “Rockin’” was ending and the Weezer version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” started. Rick looked around at the sea of leather, whiskey, and bad ideas and sighed to himself. Shane lifted himself up on his toes, stretching his neck to look around at the crowd and must have found what he was looking for. He grinned ear-to-ear. “Well, I have my date,” he said and then walk to the corner of the room and started pretending that Merle couldn’t breathe on his own and needed all the air from Shane’s lungs.

Which left Rick alone. With a bunch of bikers and bartenders. He scanned around the room and found the least crowded and lowest profile area of the bar and slunk over to it, leaning on the wall. He checked his watch and figured he’d give himself thirty to pacify Shane before bailing and going home, grabbing an eggnog and watching _Jingle All the Way_ for the third time this holiday season.

A man in a worn checkered shirt and faded jeans approached and leaned on the wall next to him, nursing a beer bottle, and looking just as sour as Rick felt. Rick looked him over and the man caught him doing so. He nodded at Rick and Rick nodded back and then was incredibly thrilled when the man didn’t launch into conversation, but rather kept drinking and looking around at the room full of bikers high on “Winter Wonderland” and mistletoe.

From the corner, Shane caught Rick’s eye while he was still tongue-deep in Merle’s mouth and held his thumb up in acknowledgement. “ _Jesus_ ,” Rick muttered and frowned.

The man next to him followed his line of eyesight. “That your friend?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Shane.”

The guy snorted. “My brother. Merle.” He took a swig of his beer.

Rick turned toward him and gave him a good once over, trying to figure out how this guy with the good cheekbones and the nice jawline was related to Merle, who didn’t look like he had an attractive bone in his whole body (not counting the one that Shane never stopped talking about). “Merle’s brother, huh?”

“Yeah. Daryl.” He held out his non-beer hand and Rick shook it.

“Rick Grimes,” he said.

“You a cop, too?” Daryl asked, nodding in Shane’s direction.

Rick shrugged. “Yeah. Not tonight, though.”

“Good,” Daryl said. “So if I kill my brother for bringing me to this dumb ass shit of a party, you’re not going to arrest me, right?”

Rick laughed. “No, but you have to do me a favor and take Shane out, too.”

Daryl chuckled and then shook his head hard. “ _Christmas_ , man. Jesus.” He looked at his beer. “Need something a lot stronger.”

“I know,” Rick said and grunted. “I’ve already heard ‘Santa Baby’ enough that I’m ready to gouge my own ears out so that I will never have to hear it again for the rest of my _life_.”

Daryl smiled. “Yeah, that’s a terrible one. Not as bad, though, as that stupid ‘last christmas I gave you my heart’ crap. I mean, really. Think about it. I could replace Christmas with anything. Hey,” he nudged Rick. “Last Wednesday, I gave you my heart. See? Same damn song.”

Rick laughed. “I guess that Christmas is really not the time for creativity.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and nodded his head just slightly. “Yeah.” He paused. “So,” he said in that specific tone that meant ‘I started a conversation with you even though I didn’t mean to and now it’s awkward so I guess we’re going to launch into small talk.’ “Why’d you come here?”

Rick motioned to where Merle was sitting on the barstool with Shane practically in his lap. “That asshole. He thinks I should start dating.”

Daryl raked his eyes over Rick and Rick fought back a blush. “You think you’re going to find someone in a biker bar?”

“That’s what I said.” Rick shrugged. “But Shane said he found someone here. I don’t know what makes him think that I’m into guys like Merle.” He paused. “No offense to your brother.”

“Eh,” Daryl said, shrugging. “Merle has the personality of an enema.”

Rick quirked up the corner of his mouth. “And I don’t see any other people I could even really have a _conversation_ with, let alone date.”

“Well, we’re doing pretty good for ourselves,” Daryl said and then paused. “Or, um, are we talking girl bikers here?”

This time, Rick _did_ blush hard, turning away and hoping the low lighting would hide him from Daryl’s scrutinizing gaze. “No...uh...well, I guess both, really. Even though, I’m not...very experienced with…”

“So you’re a gay virgin?” Daryl asked, just throwing it out there. Rick balked.

“I am...I am _not_. I’ve just…”

Daryl raised his eyebrows and let him finish. Rick frowned and spoke in a rush. “I’ve just never had sex with a guy before.” He paused. “Or...kissed one.”

Daryl fought back a smile and held out his bottle to Rick. “Here.” Rick didn’t even bother to protest, just grabbed it and downed the rest of it.

From across the bar, Shane finally detached himself from where he and Merle were trying to fuse their mouths together. He nodded at Rick, grinning, and Rick flipped him off as hard as he could. Shane looked to the side where Daryl was standing and then glanced above them. He elbowed Merle hard in the shoulder, who looked to where Shane’s attention was focused. Then Merle was laughing hard and Shane was covering his mouth and Rick watched Merle nearly bending over he found something so funny. Confused, Rick gave Daryl a look, but then Merle was bellowing across the room. “DARYL,” he burst into a fit of laughter again. “HEY, BABY BROTHER. YOU GOT SOME MISTLETOE THERE. “

Daryl snapped his head up at the same time that Rick craned his neck back. Sure enough, there was a piece of mistletoe nailed to the wall above them, white berries shining and pine needles mocking.

Rick turned to Daryl. “I’m suddenly starting to realize why there’s no one leaning against this wall.”

“You KISS that copper, baby girl!” Merle yelled at Daryl, who flipped him off before grabbing Rick’s wrist and dragging him along the wall until they got to the door.

The sounds of the crowded bar and of Merle’s bellowing laughter disappeared once they hit the cool December air and Rick said shyly, “Thanks.”

Daryl shrugged, but didn’t let go of his wrist, instead continuing to drag him so that they were away from the door.

“My brother’s a dick,” Daryl said and then pushed Rick up against the wall. “But, hey, man. Holiday tradition. Right?”

Rick’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. Daryl took the empty bottle from his hand and tossed it on the ground before putting both hands on the sides of Rick’s neck and leaning in, capturing Rick’s mouth with his own. Rick moaned and put his hands in Daryl’s hair, opening his mouth for him and letting Daryl press his body up against Rick’s. Rick melted into him, holding on for dear life until Daryl finally, slowly, pulled away.

Daryl put his forehead against Rick’s and smiled at him. “Need a date for the party?” He asked. Rick stared into his eyes, the heat and the intensity, and thought that _Jingle All the Way_ was incredibly overrated.


	2. A Gift at a Town Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time for a prison setting fic!

_On the 2nd Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Gift at a Town Library  
_

There were certain things that would always be hard to find in an apocalyptic world: food, medicine, good booze. But christmas shit was not one of them. Daryl had found that out pretty quickly, back when it was still summer and the crickets were humming at night.

It never failed that at every house they searched through, they’d find a box full of ornaments, lights, tinsel. And, of course, they never had any use for it, so it would be shoved away as they searched through the leftover inventory of people’s lives for something decent to use.

They never had any use for it, that is, until the first frost. When the cold air came rolling in, Daryl paused on the standard plastic-tree-sized box filled full of fake needle bits and wrapping paper. The prison was pretty sparse these days and with the cold coming and no more crops growing, tensions were starting to rise. Everyone needed a breather now and then. A pick me up.

Which is how Daryl started sneaking in bags of red and green balls, glittery string, and angel toppers. No one saw, of course, because unlike Glenn, Daryl had a damn good poker face. He would always drop the bags off inside the yard, but out of view of the others, creating his own holiday stash. He’d go and give them the real supplies and no one was the wiser.

Until the tree incident. Because it was hard to hide a big-ass freaking Christmas tree. And then it was just all out and everyone knew. And when they started going through Daryl’s merry little hoard, they found reindeer and trains and snowmen figures and all kinds of crap. And for the next day, everyone was smiling.

But Daryl’s dash of Christmas spirit came back to haunt him. Because what was Christmas without presents? So, of course, Daryl and Glenn were saddled as the present runners and supply missions became something else altogether. Which is how Daryl found himself out with Rick, combing the abandoned library of the town for something that Carl would like to read.

“You sure the kid doesn’t want, like, a hatchet or something?” Daryl asked, picking up young adult books and throwing them behind his shoulder into a “no” pile.

“Of course he would,” Rick said, “but that doesn’t mean that he should forget how to read.”

Daryl grunted and picked up a book about mean little girls who bullied each other and something about unicorns. Trash. “Well, all this shit is really dumb. Looks like someone took everything interesting and left us with the horse club books.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Think there would be some ladies back at the prison who would throttle you for taking shit about the horse club.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned to Rick. “Well, if anyone is bothering to get me anything, then let’s not make it about ponies and rainbow colored hair.”

Rick smiles shyly. “I’m going to get you something,” he said and Daryl looked him up and down.

“Oh yeah?” Daryl said. “When? Because I’m pretty sure that I’ve gone out with you on every supply run you’ve done and that means you’re running out of time, buddy. We said Christmas was in four days.”

Rick put his hands in his pocket and slid up a little to Daryl, looking not at all like the confident Rick Grimes that Daryl knew and more like a nervous school boy. “Now?” he said, his voice cracking just a little.

Daryl looked around at the library and then down at _The Long Hay Ride_. He grunted. “No horse club,” he said. But horse club was definitely not what he got as Rick leaned forward, grabbed his chin, angled it to himself and then kissed him thoroughly, right in-between the “Hs” and the “Js.”

Which is why it really wasn’t Daryl’s fault when the book fell out of his hand to land on the dusty floor. Who was he to resist Rick Grimes when Rick was pressing his lips firmly to Daryl’s, opening his mouth with his tongue, and touching Daryl’s neck like he was trying to power his own generator on the electricity between them.

Rick slowly pulled away and looked down at Daryl, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Merry Christmas,” he said and Daryl couldn’t think of a better present he’d had in his whole damn life.


	3. A Sleigh Ride for You and for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a no-apocalypse AU.

_On the 3rd Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Sleigh Ride for You and for Me_

Daryl was almost done with his shift for the day when the couple jumped into the carriage and paid for one ride around the square. He sighed and whistled at the two horses to go, moving slowly through small downtown Georgia, which was too warm for sleigh rides, and so horse drawn carriages in which the horses wore antlers and he wore a Santa hat would have to do.

Normally, he tried to distract himself with his surroundings instead of listening to his client’s conversations, but this time, he was just plain bored. The man grunted behind him and said to the woman, “Lori, I know what you’re saying, but I’m just not in the mood.”

“Rick, it’s been six months,” the woman, Lori, said. “You have to start dating again.”

The man heaved a huge sigh. “I just don’t like the idea of dating one of my ex-wife’s friends. No offense. I’m just saying.” Daryl perked his ears up. Divorce drama? Way better than watching Humphrey and Tinkles trot around the square.

“I completely understand,” Lori said, “but you have to get out eventually. And Allison is extremely nice.”

“...Allison is the secretary to your lawyer, Lori.” Daryl tried not to snicker. He mostly succeeded and he covered up the sound that did come out by clearing his throat.

“Yes, but she’s pretty and she has a great personality. You’d like her.”

Rick scoffed. “Met her. She glared me down across the table and I thought she was made of pure ice.” Daryl heard Lori gather a breath to continue, but Rick cut her off. “I’ll _think_ about it, Lori. Not with Allison. But dating in general.”

They pulled around to the end of the ride and Daryl tried not to be too conspicuous as he watched them walk away, examining Rick’s squared shoulders and his firm set jaw.

***

The next day, near the end of Daryl’s shift, Rick was again pulled into Daryl’s carriage. Only this time, it was by another man who, through the thread of the conversation, Daryl learned was named Shane. It appeared that Shane also wanted Rick to have a love life and Daryl figured since he’d listened in on conversation #1, he might as well follow up with conversation #2.

“Rick,” Shane said. “Man, I know this has been hard for you. Real hard. But it’s only going to get better if you actually, you know, _date_. I know this girl--”

“Not dating a girl you met at a bar,” Rick jumped in.

“She’s a redhead,” Shane said, trying to sweeten the deal.

“No,” Rick said.

“Got legs.”

“No.”

“Green eyes.”

“No.”

“Likes Jimmy Buffett.”

“ABSOLUTELY no. No, no, and no, Shane. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

Shane didn’t stop, though. Instead, he offered Rick a brunette he knew in college, a blond he knew from his cousin, and a pretty Asian girl he kept flirting with at the Wendy's--which was apparently a BIG deal as she was supposed to be Shane’s score. But Rick refused all of them.

When the carriage stopped, Daryl studied Rick again, noting his wavy hair that curled in the back and the tan uniform that sat nicely on his hips.

***

Conversation #3 and Daryl was invested, especially when this one was particularly charged as it was Rick and his twelve-year-old son, who seemed just as into Rick dating as his ex-wife and his friend had been.

“But Mom says you’ll be happier if you have a date,” Carl said.

“I know what Mom says,” Rick responded and Daryl heard him shift around in the carriage. “But you have to understand, I might not be ready to date again.”

“Why not?”

Rick sighed. “Well, I haven’t met the right person.”

“Who’s the right person?” Carl asked, curiosity in his voice.

“I don't know,” Rick said. “Someone who I can just look at and know that we’ll click. Someone smart and fun. Impulsive, maybe. I’ll know them when I see them. Do you understand that?”

There was a brief pause and then Carl blurted out, “Mrs. Jenning thinks you have a nice butt.”

As the carriage ride ended, Daryl looked over and he agreed.

***

Daryl’s shift was ending again and, thankfully, the next person was there and ready to begin a little early. So Daryl jumped off the carriage and began to scan the square, just in case. He was in luck. Rick stood just a few feet away, examining something in one of the downtown shop windows.

Daryl went over his game plan again, found it to be incredibly solid, and put on his best “My name is Daryl Dixon and I’m 50% cool and 50% sex” look. He slid up to Rick easily.

“Hey,” Daryl said and smiled, “My name’s Daryl.”

Rick looked over at him, blinked and then nodded. “Rick,” he said. This close up, Daryl could finally tell his eye color, aquamarine blue and dazzling.

“Cool,” Daryl said and gave him The Eyes. “I saw you hanging out a couple of times this week. I wondered...do you want to go on a carriage ride with me?” Rick opened his mouth, but looked confused, so Daryl pushed on. “Promise it’d be worth your while.” Reluctantly, Rick nodded and they got into another carriage and headed away.

“I’ve seen you for the last three days,” Daryl explains, sitting close to Rick as the horses trot through town. “I was the driver of your previous carriage rides. Hard not to listen in on conversations, so I heard your ex-wife and your friend and your son trying to get you on dates.”

Rick blushes. “Oh, that. Sorry. You must think I’m a pretty lame guy, huh? For his ex-wife to try and be setting him up.”

Daryl shakes his head. “Nah. I think you’re just waiting on the right person.” Rick looks over and nods and Daryl thinks he sees a brief once-over glance in his eyes, scanning down Daryl’s body, so Daryl gives him The Eyes again and leans in close. “Want to go on a date?”

Rick’s eyes widen and he swallows and then he’s nodding and saying, “Sure. Why the hell not?” And then Daryl is leaning forward, kissing him right there in the square all lips and tongue and action. Rick kisses him back thoroughly and puts his hand on Daryl’s neck

As they pull apart, Rick smiles, his eyes bright. “ _Finally_ ,” he says, “someone who has potential.” Daryl grins back and lets the magic of the Christmas music, the lights, and the hooves of Jester and Garland carry him and Rick to a fantastic place.


	4. A Date at the Farm Christmas Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at Hershel's farm...

_On the 4th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Date at the Farm Christmas Tree_

For conservation’s sake and because it was the end of the world, the gang at the farm decided not to cut down a Christmas tree, but rather to find one in the woods nearby and decorate it. The one they picked was little, but full, and about twenty yards into the forest on the back side of the house, which put it close by but out of view of the farm windows...making it the perfect make out point.

Oh, of course, the “Kissing Christmas Tree” started out innocently enough. They really did decorate it with old ornaments and garland found in Hershel's house. They even made their own ornaments by decorating smooth creek rocks with paint and wrapping bits of wire around them.

But then Maggie and Glenn started to go off to “decorate the tree” and everyone figured out pretty quickly what that meant. Beth and Jimmy followed suit and even Lori and T-Dog went out there once and there were suspicions.

So, when Rick asked Daryl if he wanted to go hunt and they ended up not by the creek or their favorite deer hunting venues, but rather by the Christmas Tree, Daryl was hella confused. He stared at the Christmas balls--all silver and gold and red and green--and then looked back at Rick with his eyebrow raised.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

Rick was beet red. “The Christmas tree,” he said. “Thought we could decorate it.”

Daryl shrugged, then, figuring there must have been some kind of miscommunication. He always figured Rick was a smart guy, but Rick must not at all have gotten all the innuendos slung around---the north pole, the yule logs, the popcorn balls, the old “get over here on Santa’s lap” trick. Daryl opened his mouth to explain to Rick that what Glenn and Maggie were doing had nothing to do with tinsel, but a lot to do with some other kind of glitter, when he was cut off mid stride by Rick’s lips full on his.

Daryl instinctively closed his eyes as Rick moved his mouth against Daryl’s, put his hands all in Daryl’s hair and then down his neck, his chest, his sides until Daryl was pretty sure that Rick was just standing over there growing hands, because he was fairly confident that Rick had one on his ass, one in his hair, and one on his hip all at the same time.

But Daryl didn’t really care about that because now Rick’s tongue was in his mouth and Daryl was hearing himself moaning and he felt himself melt against Rick’s chest, falling into Rick in the way that he’d been dreaming about practically since he met him.

Rick pulled away ever so slowly, letting his lips linger on Daryl’s until the very last instant and he smiled at Daryl, all blue eyes and glittering mirth and Daryl wanted to punch him for being so damn perfect. “What to do more decorating?” Rick inquired and Daryl slapped him for asking stupid questions.


	5. Love Over Peppermint Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic inspired a longer version: [Love Over Peppermint Coffee](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2805236).

_On the 5th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...Love Over Peppermint Coffee  
_

After Lori divorced him, Rick had to find a new Starbucks, because he was going to be damned if he ran into her while he was still not awake enough to function in the early hour mornings before his patrol shift. The Starbucks was pretty far away, but the fact that he didn’t have to worry about all his divorce anxiety was worth it.

And, after he’d gone a couple of times, the fact that he got to check out the cute guy who always took his order and gave him those sexy narrowed eyes and a little half smile was _definitely_ worth it. It took the guy three times before he was calling Rick a regular and Rick blamed it pretty quickly on the pumpkin spice latte and the fact that he needed to feel the fall season brewing right under his nose every morning. And then the fall left him and he switched pretty quickly to the peppermint mocha, telling Daryl--because of course they were on a first name basis--that he just needed to get into the Christmas spirit.

After that, Rick really _did_ get into Christmas, because how could he not when Daryl took the time to always draw little pictures on the lid of his coffee--snowmen, Christmas trees, music notes with “happy holidays” scrolled across it. Rick always smiled everytime he reached for his coffee across the bar, trailed his fingers against Daryl’s and looked down at the snowflakes or reindeer. It was probably the most perfect Christmas season he’d ever had.

And then the 23rd came--the last day Rick could get coffee until after Christmas--and he frowned at himself before entering the store, sad that this would be his last peppermint mocha, the last little scrawl of a sleigh or a box of presents, the last time he got to look at Daryl in that cute little Santa hat that his manager made him wear.

Rick ordered his coffee as usual, gave Daryl a smile as always and Daryl gave him those eyes back and then grinned. Rick watched as he picked up a lid and turned it away from Rick so Rick couldn't see what he was writing. He watched as Daryl’s graceful fingers scrolled something across the lid and then the lid was being snapped on and Daryl handed the cup over. “Rick,” he said as if he was reading the name off the cup and not from memory, “peppermint mocha.”

Rick took the cup, let his skin brush Daryl’s, sending electricity through his body and then looked down. Scratchy handwriting wound around the top of the lid, surrounded by little depictions of snowflakes and stars. “Ask me out, you dumbass,” it said, “you know I’m going to say yes.”

But Daryl was walking into the back, giving Rick those eyes again. Which meant that Rick had to wait for half an hour until Daryl’s shift was over because of course Rick knew when he was there and when he wasn’t. And then Daryl was walking out of the store, green and red apron off, Santa hat gone and Rick nearly melted right then and there where he was leaning against his car hood.

“Hey,” he said to Daryl and Daryl smiled.

“Hey,” Daryl said back and then, like it had always been meant to happen, they were kissing right there in a Starbucks parking lot in the cool December morning air. Rick wasn’t sure who had started the kiss and he realized it didn’t really matter. Because Daryl’s lips were just the right combination of soft and hard and his tongue knew how to put just the right kind of pressure and his hands went to that exact right spot on Rick’s neck that made his body scream with joy.

Daryl pulled away slowly and smiled at him, his eyes antique blue and bright. He leaned forward and whispered to Rick, his body so close that despite December, Rick was perfectly warm. “Peppermint,” Daryl said and let his gaze slide down to Rick’s lips. And Rick knew then and there that this really was the best Christmas he had ever had.


	6. A Tinsel Guard Tower Intrigue

_On the 6th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Tinsel Guard Tower Intrigue_

The winter season rolled around and the prison group was buzzing with Christmas spirit. It was the one thing they all had to look forward to in the bleak winter months and so everyone pitched in to make it a perfectly special time. Glenn and Maggie went out and cut down a tree so that they could set it up in the middle of their cellblock and supply missions brought back decorations--boxes filled with ornaments, Christmas balls, and strings of lights they couldn’t light up, but would still look nice and festive hanging off of the tree limbs.

In fact, they had every decoration they could have ever wanted...except tinsel. Daryl thought that was weird. Tinsel was one of his favorite Christmas items, maybe his absolute favorite. He always liked the glittering golds and silvers wrapped around the tree. When the tinsel went up, it finally felt _decorated_ , ready. So he was a little disappointed that out of all the houses they searched, all the basements and Christmas boxes stuffed full of acorns, icicles, and snowmen, they hadn’t found _one_ string of tinsel. He chalked it up the people of Georgia being dumbasses who didn’t have any common sense when it came to shiny, pretty, Christmas things.

But Daryl set it out of his mind and before long, Christmas was not a week away or even a couple of days. It was tomorrow and everyone was assigned their special tasks. Daryl was on hunting duty and so he had spent the entire day out, searching for something that would overfeed the entire group for once, instead of just allow them to survive. And sure enough, like it was a Christmas miracle right in front of his eyes, he found the biggest, fattest, most _perfect_ turkey one could ever want and despite the fact that it was a bitch to carry back the prison, he was incredibly satisfied.

He arrived back at the camp right around dusk and Glenn was patrolling. Glenn gave him a look, the kind of look Daryl knew all too well. The “I have to get out of your presence before I blow the big secret” look and then scooped up the turkey and ran back to the prison, calling to Daryl to let him know that everyone was inside. Daryl frowned at that, but followed him and got halfway across the prison yard before he noticed the tinsel glittering in the dying light.

He furrowed his brow and moved forward. There, sitting in the grass as innocently as possible, was a string of beautiful silver. Daryl lifted it slightly and the string of tinsel melted from the grass. He picked it up, but found that at the end of the silver tinsel, a gold tinsel string was attached. He looked up and beyond the gold string, trying to make out the trail in the fading light. Tied together, bright and twinkling, were strands upon strands--purples, blues, golds, silvers, and whites. All leading up to the guard tower.

So of course he followed the trail. When he reached the top of the guard tower, he blinked. The door was covered in decorations--still tinsel, mostly, but also wreaths and ornaments nailed to the side. A sign, written on the back of some Christmas paper, read “Daryl, come inside. --Rick.” Daryl didn’t have to be told twice. He opened the door and found Rick standing there, nervously pacing in the twilight.

“Fuck is this?” Daryl asked, shutting the door.

“Christmas,” Rick said, wringing his hands. “Heard you liked tinsel.”

Daryl looked around the room to where even more and more ornaments and tinsel was decorated and thought to himself that he had been dead wrong. The people of Georgia most certainly had seen the joy of tinsel--maybe even a little too much. Daryl grunted. “Pretty,” he said, touching a strand.

Rick grinned. “You like it?” he asked, moving forward.

Daryl shrugged. “Yeah. You did it for me?”

“Of course,” Rick said, his eyes glittering just as shiny and bright as any Christmas star. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither one of them knowing quite what to do with all the sappy merriment and then Rick was saying, “wanna fuck by the tinsel?” and Daryl was thinking _thank god_ as he kissed him hard, right there beside the the Rudolph figurine and the santa hat hung above the glass.


	7. Carolers Bellowing Off Key

_On the 7th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...Carolers Bellowing Off Key_

If there was anyone in the world who thought that Scrooge was grumpy about Christmas, they had never met Merle Dixon. Daryl had tried for years to get him to enjoy the lights and the festivities. But every time Daryl pulled out fake snow or garland, Merle would always get that sour look on his face with the corners of his mouth pulled down as if they had weights on them and spit out, “fucking Santa is a fatass crackwhore,” and march off to his room or the bar, depending on if he was on house arrest or not. So over the years, Daryl slowly gave up on trying to make their sparse house holiday friendly.

Didn’t mean the carolers gave up, though. Every year, the same bunch of neighbors got together and went door-to-door, singing “Angels We Have Heard on High,” “The Little Drummer Boy,” “We Wish You A Merry Christmas,” and all the others that caused Merle to roll around on the floor, screaming like a two-year-old to make it stop. Daryl would always give them about three songs just to piss Merle off before politely shutting the door and sending them on their way. He got used to the specific voices--how Mrs. Henderson was always screechy, how Hank Boyd always acted like he had perfect pitch, how Lori and Rick Grimes could never quite make their voices match. And, to be honest, it was always one of the things he looked forward to the most. It was the little bit of Christmas cheer that he had around the holidays. And besides, if it allowed him to stare at Rick Grimes’s ass without Merle yelling at him for checking out the neighborhood cop, that was always a plus.

And then one year the carolers showed up and Lori was not with them. As always, the doorbell rang on the night of the 23rd and Daryl was quick to open the door. Merle--house arrest this time--thrashed about in the back of the house when he heard the doorbell and then came into the hallway, yelling for Daryl to shut the door. But the carolers had already started on “Silent Night,” so Merle was just stuck.

Daryl vaguely listened to his brother-- _old Merle can’t stand no singing_ and _gonna shove all that Christmas mirth up your tiny, snow covered ass_ and _all is not calm, cause I’m going to break your spleen_ \--while catching Rick’s gaze. Rick smiled at Daryl in the middle of the chorus, the end of his Santa hat falling across his forehead, and Daryl hoped and prayed that Rick was single and Lori wasn’t just home with the flu.

And then the three songs were over and the group started to move down to the next house, but Rick stayed. He took off his hat and looked at Daryl and Daryl thought he could see just the tiniest of blushes. “Hey, Daryl,” he said and then waved inside. “Hey, Merle.”

“FUCK YOU, RICK,” Merle yelled and then slammed into his room.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Still pissed for me getting him on that gas station security cam, huh?”

Daryl smiled and then shrugged. “Deserved it. How…” He cleared his throat. “How have you been?”

And then Rick was saying the magic words, “Lori and I got a divorce. Early this year,” and Daryl really shouldn’t be happy to hear about someone’s misfortune. Only this meant that Rick was single and ready to mingle and Daryl was definitely ready to _mingle_ a couple of somethings together.

But he forced himself to put on his sympathy face. “Aw, man,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“No,” Rick said and waved him away. “It’s cool. It’s definitely cool. Totally cool. Stellar. Like...really...cool--doyouwanttogoonadatewithme?” Rick finished in a rush.

Daryl stood there, blinking in the cool December night and this time, he really did notice Rick blushing. But then he grinned ear-to-ear and nodded and heard himself say, “Yeah, man. What took you so long to ask?”

And then he was yelling at Merle to order some takeout for himself and stepping outside, shutting the door behind him so it was only Daryl and Rick under the low glow of the porch light and Daryl thought he’d been waiting years for this, so he was going to be damned if he waited until the end of the night and so he leaned up and he kissed him thoroughly.

Rick leaned forward into Daryl and dropped the Santa hat on the ground so that he could fist his hands in Daryl’s shirt and then Daryl’s tongue was meeting Rick’s and it was just so damn near perfect that it almost made Daryl believe in Christmas miracles. And then they were pulling away and Rick was smiling ear-to-ear and Daryl was too. Rick pressed their foreheads together and drew Daryl into him and they kissed there on the porch, studiously trying to ignore the cries from inside the house about how old Merle was going to starve.


	8. The Winner of Snowball Fighting

_On the 8th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...The Winner of Snowball Fighting  
_

Really, when you got down to it, it was all Rick’s fault and he really should have known better. But when the snow had fallen and piled up a couple of inches in the prison yard and when he and Daryl were walking the perimeter, checking it regularly for weak spots, and Daryl’s back was to him...it was just too perfect.

So Rick reached down, wadded up as much snow as he could, packing it down quickly, and chucked it right at Daryl’s head. And...score. It hit his hair with a loud _thump_ and Daryl yelled “ _Shit_!” into the morning air. Rick snickered. Hard. But then Daryl was whipping around and glaring at him and Rick realized pretty quickly that he was in deep, deep trouble because he had just started a war with a guy who lived for airborne missiles.

Rick did the only thing he could think to do. He ran away. But the prison yard didn’t offer much in the way of cover and so he was an open target. He got a little bit of ground while Daryl was supposedly grabbing and wadding up the snow, but eventually they soared at him. And hit him. Every. Single. Time. Which meant that Rick’s flight response was really not working, so he had to man up and turn the tides of the battle. He fell to his knees and started scraping at snow, pushing it together and rolling it up and _holy shit_! Ducking, too, apparently, as Daryl was coming at him hot.

And then he had some ammo and Rick might not have been as fast at this as Daryl was, but he had pretty good aim and _whoop_. Right in the face. Daryl cussed like a sailor and whipped at his snow covered nose and Rick thought that that was the most hilarious thing in the world until his nose was also snow covered and his mouth, open from laughing, was spitting out flakes and melted snow.

Rick managed to get most of the snow off his face just in time to look up at Daryl and see the determined glare on his face, nicely coupled with the smile curling up the corners of his mouth and Rick yelled and dove flat, but Daryl must have expected that because _thud_ , right on Rick’s ass. Rick rolled his eyes and, while still on his stomach on the ground, started balling up the snow in front of him. But then he felt a larger, bigger thump that was definitely not snow and he realized belatedly that Daryl was straddling his back.

Daryl reached above Rick’s head to where Rick was scraping snow and started to destroy his perfect ball creations. “Ah, ah, ah,” Daryl said. “No way.”

Rick figured that he had pretty well lost this fight, what with the fact that Daryl was on top of him now and he had no where to go. But he also figured that one should fight until the very last minute. So he slapped Daryl’s hands away and gathered the snow again, pulling both the snow and his hands close to his chest and creating a little cave where Daryl’s hands couldn’t reach.

Only Daryl was trying really hard to break up the snowball Rick was creating. He tried to sneak his hand under Rick’s armpit, over his shoulder, even under his chest. But whenever he did, Rick would tense and jostle him away until Rick had it. He had his last snowball. And this was it. He was all in.

He bucked up hard, causing Daryl to fall off him to the side and he whipped around and threw it as hard as he could and _bam_ , right in the forehead. Daryl sputtered. “You son of a _bitch_ ,” Daryl said, but he was laughing hard and Rick was too and what with Daryl lying there laughing, his skin red from the cold and from the fight and his eyes shining with mirth and the fact that Rick also couldn’t stop grinning, this was the best moment that Rick had had in what felt like years.

So he did the only logical thing. He leaned down, right there in the snow, and kissed Daryl. Daryl made a surprised little _ummph_ , but then he was leaning up into Rick, moving his lips just right against Rick’s own and Rick’s hands were in Daryl’s hair and Daryl’s hands were on his waist. And then Rick touched Daryl’s lips with his tongue and they fell open and he dove right in and Daryl met him easily and it was wonderful. It was awesome. It was...cold...as Daryl’s hands went under his shirt and then Rick _knew_ and pulled away with a little cry, but it was too late because a snowball hit the small of his back, _ice cold_ on his skin and he was slapping at Daryl and Daryl was scrambling out from under him and THIS WAS NOT OVER, Rick thought.


	9. A Mall Elf on Christmas Eve

_On the 9th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Mall Elf on Christmas Eve  
_

“Dad,” Carl said and turned to Rick, glaring him down amid the throng of mall shoppers. “I am twelve.”

Rick sighed. “I know, Carl,” he said. “But your mom wants this picture and since she’s in Costa Rica now with--”

Carl cut him off, crossing his arms and looking as defiant as any pre-teen. “I am TWELVE and I don’t care what my Mom and my _step dad_ want.”

“Carl,” Rick said and knelt down, trying to ignore the looks they were getting. “It’s one picture.”

“With SANTA,” Carl spit out. “I’m not FIVE.”

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Time for the big guns, he thought. “I’ll buy you a PS4 if you go…”

Carl stared at him for a moment, mouth open, before he stammered, “R-really? Like really?”

“Yes,” Rick said. “But that is your Christmas present and you get nothing else from me and you will SMILE with Santa.” He pointed down the long open mall hallway to where a big ring of people were crowded around the makeshift North Pole.

Carl looked at the Christmas crowd, then at Rick, and nodded to himself. “Yeah, Dad. DEAL.”

***

Except for apparently “deal” didn’t involve Carl keeping quiet in line and he started complaining about the long wait. Rick lasted through about ten minutes of “Dad, I’m _bored_ ” before he couldn’t take it anymore and gave Carl his phone so he could play Angry Birds.

And then it was RICK who was bored with nothing to do. He looked around at the line, the ten or so people in front of them, the gaggle of people after them, all with kids of varying ages, genders, and states of being upset. Luckily, though, Rick moved up so that he was close to one of the attendants, dressed head-to-toe in a green elf suit--pointed ears and shoes with bells on them included--and he figured that conversation with a stranger would have to do.

“Busy, huh?” he said to the elf, who looked at him, blue-gray eyes startlingly bright under the florescent mall lights.

The man grunted. “Yep.” He looked at Rick and Carl and raised his eyebrow. “Little old, huh?”

Rick shrugged. “My ex-wife said she had to have a picture and I figure if I don’t get it for her, she’ll yell at me for the next six months, so really half-an-hour of waiting in line and forcing my son to pretend he likes Santa is well worth my time, considering.”

The man scoffed. “Sounds like a bitch.” Then he paused and looked around to check and see if anyone had heard him spilling kid unfriendly-words. He grunted again. “Sorry.”

Rick shrugged and figured that he still had at least a ten minute wait left. “Rick Grimes,” he said, by way of introduction.

The elf smiled just slightly. “Daryl. Oh, um,” he reached down and grabbed the corners of the nametag, tilting his shoulder slightly so Rick could better read it. “I mean, Jolly Jinglepants.”

Rick couldn’t help it. He snort laughed. “ _Jinglepants_?” he asked.

The elf--Daryl--glowered at him now, the corners of his mouth tilted downward. “Not my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick said, still laughing. He covered his mouth and then stopped himself, cleared his throat. “That is a great elf name,” he said. “Totally makes me think of holiday miracles.”

The elf shook his head, but he was smiling now. “Seasonal work, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Rick said, “I can imagine.”

But then the line was shifting forward and Rick had to stop talking, because they were too far up from the attendant’s station. He was sad because he had lost his conversational partner, but something told him he was also sad because he didn’t get to look into the guy’s eyes anymore.

***

The following day Rick was back at the mall, sans Carl, to buy the PS4 and the rest of his gifts. The place was absolutely _packed_ , but he figured that made sense, considering it was the 23rd of December. He hit up the few places that he needed on the closest end of the mall before heading for _GameStop_ , clear on the other side.

As he passed by the over decorated North Pole, he craned his neck and looked for elves. Sure enough, Daryl was there, wearing the ears and shoes again, talking to people in line. Rick checked his trajectory and made sure that he walked as close by Daryl as he could without seeming too suspicious.

“Oh, hey!” he said as he got close. “You’re the elf from yesterday, right? Jingles?”

Daryl blinked at him and then tried to hide a smile. “It’s _Jolly_. But yeah,” he said. “Same place, same outfit. Rick, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rick said and held up the bags he was holding. “Finishing shopping. How are you?”

“Fantastic,” Daryl said and nodded to the line. “Busy.”

“Yeah,” Rick said and waved his hand that wasn’t holding the bags. “I get it. Have a good shift.”

“No, no, no,” Daryl said and waved him back. He whispered conspiratorially. “Save me from the parents.”

“Oh,” Rick said, smiling. “Sure. So...this is probably your last day, huh? I mean, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

Daryl shook his head, causing his little elf hat to jingle. “Nope. Working tomorrow. Mall’s open.”

“Wait…,” Rick said. “For real? The mall is open?”

“Yeah, some of the stores.” Daryl shrugged. “Us, too.”

“Well, hopefully it’s an early shift.” Rick said and then swallowed. “Then you can get home to your wife? Girlfriend?”

Daryl laughed. “No,” he said. “Both to the early shift and the person to come home to. Unless you count Merle, my brother. But don’t.”

Rick smiled and then remembered that he was probably supposed to act sad for Daryl. “Aw, sorry, man. Single at Christmas. Must be a bummer.”

“You, too, though,” Daryl said, and narrowed his eyes just a little, giving Rick a definite smolder. “You said ex-wife? And you didn’t have a current person with you yesterday.”

Rick shook his head. “No, you’re right. Single. So...you’re not doing anything for Christmas? Not going home at least to see family?”

Daryl shrugged. “Like staying here better. What about you?”

“Just me and my apartment,” Rick said. “Um...that sounded more pathetic than I wanted it to sound.”

Daryl just smiled and then he was opening his mouth and Rick was hoping he knew what was going to come next. “Do you want--.” But then a woman was calling for an attendant and Daryl had to swing around to help her and Rick was swept up in the crowd and Daryl was swept into his work and Rick never got to hear him finish what he was going to say.

***

Rick had absolutely no excuse to go to the mall on Christmas Eve, but he still found himself there right before close. He watched as the North Pole began packing up, finishing photos with the last few kids they had. Soon enough, the attendants were going back into the mall interior and Rick waited outside impatiently, scanning the stragglers for Daryl.

When he saw him, he had to blink. Daryl’s biker-esque attire was nothing at all like Rick had imagined he would wear and it was a completely different contrast to the happy, green elf suit he wore. But damn, Rick thought, it made the guy look fine. And that was just the extra little push he needed to slide up to Daryl and ask, “Do you want to spend tomorrow with me?”

Daryl widened his eyes at Rick in surprise. “Hi to you, too.”

“Oh,” Rick said, blushing under the streetlights in the mall parking lot. “Hi, Daryl. It’s Rick from yesterday. And the day before that. Do you want to spend Christmas with me?”

Daryl smiled. “That’s awfully forward,” he said.

Rick shrugged, but he was getting a little nervous now. “Um...yeah. Sorry, if that’s...if I was reading the signals wrong. I just thought you had nowhere to be and I have nowhere to be and maybe we could go nowhere...together?” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, that was really lame. I’ll leave now.”

Rick turned away, but Daryl reached out and grabbed his arm. “You know,” Daryl said, spinning Rick back around toward him. “I usually don’t go home with guys unless I at least kiss them first.”

Rick blinked and then let a small, shy smile out. “You...you could fix that?” he squeaked and then Daryl was, leaning forward to capture Rick’s mouth right there in front of the _Maple Creek Mall_ and Rick melted against his body, put his hands in Daryl’s hair and kissed him for dear life, because it had really been too long since Rick had been kissed like this and the image of Daryl’s eyes smoldering at him was burning in his brain and Rick had no other coherent thoughts other than sexy.

When Daryl pulled away, it was way too soon, even though Rick was pretty sure they’d been going at it for a good long while. Daryl smiled against his lips and Rick came back to himself, realizing that one of Daryl’s arms was slung around his back and the other was resting right on his hip. Rick blushed. Daryl kissed him again, senselessness, and then he was pulling back a second time and _this_ time he managed to say, “yes. I’d love to spend Christmas with you.” And Rick was over the moon.


	10. A Fishing Mistletoe Scheme

_On the 10th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...A Fishing Mistletoe Scheme_

In early November, Glenn found a stack of fishing poles and that was a really good thing for awhile. They took them out to the local creek and pretty soon they had a steady supply of fish for protein. And what with the squash and tomato seeds they had found sprouting and bearing fruit, all was well.

Until it was the Christmas season and the fishing pole got a secondary use. It started pretty simply. Glenn handed off the pole to Carol and while Glenn and Maggie were talking on the first floor of their cellblock, Carol leaned over the railing with mistletoe attached to the hook of the pole and lined it up right over Maggie’s head. And then everyone oohed and awwed and they kissed and it was kind of cute.

Except Glenn didn’t stop just with Maggie. No, now he had a list. A list of every possible combination between the people left in the prison and it became a Christmas game. Carol and Beth, quick little peck. Maggie and Carl, a hug and a kiss on the head. Hershel and Daryl, awkward little lipsmack. Even Rick and Judith got one, with Rick giving the baby a nice little kiss on the cheek and then grinning up at Glenn and shaking his head.

And of course Glenn got obsessed with finishing the list. What else did he have to do when the crops were done for the year and the food was all stored up and bagged and the place had actually calmed down for once? So when Daryl and Rick were the only two left, it was _game on_.

Only Glenn could never get them together. Ever, it seemed like. When Daryl was in the room, Rick wasn’t. When Rick was, Daryl wasn’t. Like they were planning it. Like this was a Kissin’ Mistle Challenge. And Glenn was up for that. So he pulled in Maggie and Carol and his accomplices and they set about a terrible, an _evil_ plan.

Glenn lay in wait with the pole, hunkered down near the railing to be less suspicious. Maggie waited until the baby was crying to be changed and picked her up, putting on her best worried face. And Carol ran off into the yard, looking for both RIck and Daryl, lying straight to their face about how Judith was coming down with a fever. Glenn thought it was a pretty bad thing to joke around about, but he also thought that he’d given these guys their chances and this was war.

And sure enough, Rick can stumbling into the cellblock, worried for his daughter, and Daryl came in right after him because _sick baby_. And then there they were. Standing right next to each other and Glenn dropped the pole.

“Hey, guys, she’s fine,” Glenn called. “But look up.”

Rick whipped his head around hard and saw the pole and then he glared hard up at Glenn. Daryl followed his sight and saw the mistletoe, too, and it all clicked.

“You are _kidding_ me,” Rick said. “Really?”

Glenn shrugged. “You’re the last two. Come on, let’s see it.”

“No,” Rick said, defiantly. “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on,” Maggie said, backing Glenn up. “We all have. It’s one little kiss.”

“Yeah, dad,” Carl said and Rick widened his eyes at his son. “Kiss.”

And then someone--lord only knows who, except it was totally Glenn--started up a chant and then the whole prison was sitting there, clapping their hands going “KISS, KISS, KISS” and Daryl rolled his eyes so hard Glenn was worried he was going to go blind from detaching them from the nerves and then he was pulling Rick toward him and they were kissing.

Only, Glenn realized, it wasn’t just a “here have a peck on the cheek” or a “mwuah, now get out of my face” or even a forehead smoosher. No. No this was a _full_ on kiss and Glenn said belatedly, “ooooooohhhhhhh,” suddenly realizing with full clarity _why_ it was the boys had not wanted to kiss. But man were they kissing now, all lips and angles and Daryl’s hands in Rick’s hair and Rick’s hands on Daryl’s side. Glenn decided this was either the best idea he’d ever had or the worst.

But then slowly they were pulling apart, both beet red and Daryl was grabbing his crossbow from the corner and making his way to the door. Glenn figured he really shouldn’t, but he catcalled. “YEAH, boy,” he said. “You get that.” And then Rick was glaring at him again and following Daryl out, only there was some definite small-of-the-back touching and low whispered laughing going on. Glenn smiled to himself and picked up his notebook, writing a line through Daryl and Rick’s name and marking off to the side “SUCCESS.”


	11. The Battle of the Charity

_On the 11th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...The Battle of the Charity_

At first, Rick was just happy to have a fellow co-worker. When he volunteered as the officer who would raise charity money for the South Humane Society’s Pups for Peace campaign (mostly because he had nothing else to do, what with being divorced around the holidays and Lori winning the custody battle over Carl and Christmas) he was sure that the job would be boring and thankless. It didn’t really sound that fun hanging outside the right entrance of the Piggly Wiggly and ringing a bell, offering a bucket with a slot in it for people to stick dollars so the poor puppies could have things like blankets and homes. But it was for a good cause, he told himself. And really, it was only two nights a week for the month of December. Really easy for him to do, even if it was slightly chilly for Georgia and he had to work with a dog called Rumpus who was a pain-in-the-ass bloodhound.

But then he had met the charity worker for the North Humane Society’s Kittens for Kauses (Rick thought that Pups for Peace was better) and they had struck up an easy friendship. Daryl worked on the left side of the Piggly Wiggly, but he had the same bucket with the same slot for dollars and change. And his cat, a calico named Mrs. Fluff’n’Fights, seemed to work with him better than Rumpus. So for that first week, it was good.

And then Rick noticed that Daryl’s bucket was fuller than his. And so he upped his game a little. But then Daryl upped his too. And it was a _Competition_. When a lady would walk up to the door, digging in her purse, Rick would try to beat Daryl to the punch, trying his best to showcase Rumpus sad little (sloppery) face. But Daryl had the big guns and he would lift Mrs. Fluff’s paw and wave it at the visitor. And when they saw a guy walking across the parking lot, clutching some bills in his hand, Rick would tell him about all the hunting dogs that needed second chances, but Daryl always talked about how punk his cat was and how she liked _Black Sabbath_.

It always turned out that by the end of the night, they were pretty even. Which was good for the pups and kittens, but frustrating for Rick since he wanted to win. And then Daryl said the fighting words--“Loser buys a beer” and it was _on like Donkey Kong_. Daryl started bringing santa hats for Mrs. Fluff’s and Rick brought an elf costume for Rumpus. Daryl put on whisker face paint and Rick put on a bloodhound nose. Daryl started meowing and Rick started baying. And okay, that one had gone a little too far, but they were having fun. And besides, Rick just had to win.

But he lost. And Daryl cackled. And then they found themselves at the bar on Cedar street and Rick was buying Daryl a Heineken and Rick suddenly realized that when Daryl wasn’t outside the cold entrance of Piggly Wiggly holding a kitten, he looked...really hot. And then Rick got to thinking about Daryl’s laugh and how the whiskers had looked on him and how when he got bored, he would start to shift around and pace and baby talk to Mrs. Fluff’s. And that was really adorable. And Daryl looked really good across from him, sucking on a beer bottle and giving him smoldering eyes.

And so Rick chuckled at him and said, “Figure the beer probably doesn’t cover what I owe you. Those cats are probably in condos and my puppies are in the poorhouse.”

Daryl lifted his shoulders easily to shrug it away, but Rick was already in the motions of a follow-through. “So how’s this for a winner’s trophy?” And then he was kissing Daryl, opening his mouth with his tongue and sliding his hand up Daryl’s arm and Daryl was kissing him back soundly and encouragingly and then Rick heard himself asking if Daryl wanted to spend Christmas together, in bed, just the two of them and Daryl laughed and said “no bloodhounds” and it was perfect and awesome and Rick realized that this Christmas had turned out way better than he could have ever hoped for.


	12. The Christmas Rick Got Down on One Knee

_On the 12th Day of Christmas, My Fandom Gave to Me...The Christmas Rick Got Down on One Knee_

Two months into the relationship, Rick had decided fuck this. They didn’t have much time, any of them, and even if it would never be official--because #1) it was gay and they were in Georgia and #2) none of them were preachers--he was going to damn well propose. To Daryl Dixon.

So from then on, every time the group left their sparse prison and headed out for supplies, Rick scoured every house, every drawer and every jewelry chest for something that looked like a ring that Daryl would wear. It wasn’t easy, especially when 90% of the time when Rick was alone trying to hunt for the perfect one, Daryl slid up behind him and put his hands right on Rick’s abs. Then Rick’s plans for ring shopping were almost always replaced with a quickie in the back bedroom of the house, Daryl trying to make sure Rick was quiet so the others wouldn’t hear.

But Rick eventually found the right ring, although it took him some time. He started in April and he found it in October, wood finished with a silver line in the middle, the exact right side, and no engravings, making it just right for his apocalyptic romance, the perfect symbol of masculine promise. But October didn’t seem the right time for Rick to propose because everyone was busy harvesting. And November was set aside for getting the prison ready for winter. So Rick kept the ring bundled up close to his heart, in the pocket of his button-up shirt, and waited for the right moment.

And then Maggie asked about Christmas and prison became aflutter. Everyone geared up for holiday cheer, gathering and making gifts, scavenging basement houses for tinsel and trees that weren’t destroyed by Walkers and Rick knew that this was the perfect time. They picked an arbitrary date far enough out for everything to get ready, but short enough that no one would forget. Glenn and Maggie started extra supply runs, carefully guarding gift lists. Daryl went out and shot them a turkey the day before and the girls made bread as good as they could.

Soon enough, the day came and everyone was gathered in the prison, full of mirth. The holiday meal was bigger than Rick had remembered ever having and the gifts were thoughtful, useful, and sometimes even weird. He made sure to get Daryl a decoy gift--twenty arrows he’d been making for awhile, trying to hone his skill at their balance and sophistication.

And then, everyone was starting to settle down and Rick’s heart was beating out of his chest with nerves. But this was it. So he stood up and cleared his throat, looked at the whole group and then tried to speak confidently, even if his voice was a little squeaky. “There’s one more gift I have,” he said and tried to keep his blushing to a minimum. “Um, Daryl?”

A mix of reactions went out among the group. Glenn looked confused. Hershel looked knowing. And Beth looked like if Rick was going to do what she thought he was going to, she would burst apart with glee.

Daryl himself stood from where he was sitting with the group and looked at Rick. “Yeah?”

Rick took a deep breath. “Um,” he said and his voice cracked and then he cleared it. “Daryl. Dixon.”

Daryl furrowed his brow. “Fuck’s up with you?” he asked, but Rick was already kneeling and when Daryl saw his motion, his eyebrows rose straight up to his hairline and Rick was pretty sure they kept going all the way to the ceiling.

“Daryl,” Rick said again, on one knee. He pulled the ring from his shirt pocket and held it out between his index finger and his thumb. “I love you. So much. And I know that this is silly and I’m sure that you don’t need to be official or anything to feel like we’re together, but I thought...I might not have another chance. To do this. To marry you. And after everything’s that’s happened to us, I just want this to be perfect. I want to commit to you. Thoroughly. Unconditionally. For as long as we have. Because you are gorgeous and you’re smart and honest and drop dead sexy and I want to have you forever. So please…” Rick blushed super hard. “Marry me?”

Daryl stared at him and then blinked at the ring, blinked at Rick, and slowly, ever so slowly, said, “You...fucking son of a bitch.” But then he was grinning ear-to-ear and everyone, including Rick, took a huge sigh of relief. “Of _course_ I’ll marry you you dumb bastard. _Jesus_. Stop acting so nervous like I was ever going to say no.”

Rick jumped to his feet then and wrapped Daryl in a huge embrace. Glenn catcalled and Maggie wouldn’t shut up about seeing if the ring fit, so Rick pulled back and lifted it to Daryl’s ring finger, and it slid on just as easily as it should have. “How the fuck you know my ring size?” Daryl asked and Rick blushed again.

“Because I spent, like, two weeks kissing it and comparing it with my own,” he said, shyly. “If you’re curious, your ring finger is half a size bigger than my index.”

Daryl slapped him playfully and then they were kissing. There was more catcalling, but Rick couldn’t be bothered to notice, his tongue too tied up in Daryl’s mouth, his hand too fastened in Daryl’s hair, his heart too caught up in every single thing about Daryl.


End file.
